


Bait

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [11]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Abuse, Anal Sex, Angst, Ass Play, Begging, Betaed, Biting, Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Chronic Pain, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear Play, Hardcore, Hurt/Comfort, Late at Night, Lust, M/M, Mental Instability, Moaning, Monster Hunters, Nonbinary Character, Other, Painplay, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Teeth, Unhealthy Relationships, Whump, just a lil bit, miragehound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 22:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21345574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: After they've finally stopped ignoring Elliott after the incident where they were bedridden, Hound announces they want to go hunting, and Elliott has some concerns.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Lessons To Be Learned [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330520
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65





	Bait

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV 
> 
> Massive thanks to volatileSoloist!! This is a beefy one so have fun :D

The unpredictability was one of the worst parts of it all. 

Hound was impossible to read at the best of times, and after they’d hauled themself out of bed, insisting that they no longer required his help, it only got worse. Whenever they spoke to him, he had to attempt to discern if there was another meaning that they were burying within their words. It could be maddening at times, never knowing exactly why a punishment was happening or where it would come from, and trying to be a step ahead of them was impossible. He wasn’t allowed to ask for clarification, and trying to be on guard at all times grew to be tiring very quickly. Sometimes they’d act like he didn’t exist, just walking past him like he was nothing but furniture that they felt no need to acknowledge. Other days, they wouldn’t leave him alone for a minute. Their hand would always linger near his or on his shoulder, and he could always feel their eyes on him even if they weren’t in the same room. It was alarming to turn a corner just to see them leaning against the wall, a coy smile on their face as they just watched him walk by, almost as if to say “I am still here,” in case he forgot. It felt like they were lording it over him; that he couldn’t go anywhere they couldn’t follow, or even if he couldn’t see them, they’d just be hiding in the shadows of his peripherals waiting for him. They were consistent at being inconsistent, and they only ramped it up once they were mobile again. 

The cabin wasn’t large, and it just made their presence dwarf it all the more. The forest outside might as well have been a stockade and he didn’t dare approach it unless Hound was behind him to guide. It was a beast, but Hound had been famous for killing such beasts long before they’d met, and sometimes it felt like it was just easier to have a familiar monster backing him then to face an unfamiliar one alone. The idea of running away had been fleeting, and the more they took him out, the further it got from his mind. The ferns grew thick and he’d likely snap his ankle if he tried to run through them, as the moss-carpeted ground hid massive tree roots until they materialized under his feet. Crawling through the underbrush as they stalked him was less appealing than just tolerating their mood swings and learning when to brace himself.

They just had a way of commanding obedience with everything they did. When they ate together, Elliott didn’t dare stand until they were finished. When they walked by him, he stopped whatever he’d been doing and just bowed his head until they passed. He didn’t touch anything he wasn’t asked to and did his best to keep his mouth shut to avoid trouble. They seemed to have a similar effect on the forest as well, as nothing dared make a sound anytime they stepped out the door. In the days after their episode, they just grew more menacing, despite having clung to his hand like they were dying and asking him to stay by their side. 

If he put aside his fear momentarily, it was actually impressive to experience their power over everything, nature included, first hand. They didn’t take him out very often, and Elliott wondered if they did it purposefully so he couldn’t learn the surroundings. Whenever they would, it was in the dead of night, and Elliott had quickly learned to adapt to their schedule; for the most part, Hound was nocturnal.

They’d only roam around after the sun had set, but unlike most creatures of the night, they didn’t appear too threatening at first glance. After all, they hadn’t donned their kit since he’d seen them in the ring, and it was hard to remember they were the same person. He’d seen them working on bits of the gear before, and they’d sometimes invite him into their study so he wasn’t just sitting awkwardly elsewhere in the cabin.

He’d thought his holotech was complicated technology; he’d spent years helping his mother out while she developed it and had loved assisting her in testing, but some of the stuff Hound used made it look like it had the complexity of a child’s toy. They’d tried to explain some of it, but most of the time they just kept their head down while they soldered wires and permitted him to exist in the same space as them. It still wasn’t entirely comfortable, but Elliott wasn’t allowed in their study while they weren’t there, and slowly out of boredom, he had grown to partially understand why Hound seemed to enjoy just observing him. He’d started to pick up on little things they did even if he wasn’t consciously trying to take note of it. How they’d bite the insides of their cheeks when they were focusing on something complicated or murmur to themselves when they were trying to build something new. It was never in English, but Elliott remembered translating their pet name for him and knew it was some kind of Icelandic. It was pure gibberish to an untrained ear, but it explained the thick accent and formal style of speech. 

He supposed it wasn’t entirely unusual; he’d met people from all walks of life in the Games. Elliott remembered when Bloodhound had made their debut in the ring. The tabloids that had harassed him for months suddenly shifted their attention elsewhere in such a dramatic fashion he almost missed reading the idiotic headlines whispering that he’d been seen with some other competitor. It was fun reading things about his love life that even he didn’t know, but Hound’s appearance swept him under the rug. The mystery around their identity drew big headlines as people whispered about how they were secretly a pilot that had survived, or some rich billionaire getting their rocks off by shooting people to make even more money. One of the few times they’d ever spoken to a camera it had been when a particularly pesky female reporter had been buzzing in their ear and asking invasive questions that even Elliott had cringed at. She’d made a crack about wanting to know what was really under their suit and said the only answer she’d accept was very black and white. Hound, in the most disinterested voice Elliott had ever heard, had responded with a simple “No,” and left her standing while the cameraman and the entire audience had nearly doubled over with laughter. He’d thought it was hilarious himself, but it was definitely interesting to be the first to get to a bit of who Hound was away from everything. 

Honestly, it felt like there were three separate Bloodhounds, and trying to keep sense of them hurt his head. There was the champion Hound that he saw in the ring, quiet, calculating, and incredibly deadly. There was the sadistic Hound who made the rules for him and delighted in causing him pain. That Hound wasn’t as deadly, though they felt much more dangerous. And then there was the third Hound, who he didn’t understand at all: the one who looked and acted human and was clearly hiding something from him. He knew that the little statues they had placed around the cabin, they’d carved themself from the bones of the things they hunted. Each one had been etched into the form of whatever it had come from and the level of detail was unbelievable. Usually when Hound would chew the insides of their cheeks, it was because they were carving, and Elliott feared breathing too loudly and interrupting their intense level of focus. He knew the wood they burned was mostly cedar, but they enjoyed applewood from a few trees that grew in the forest. They made their own candles and put an unbearable amount of sugar in their coffee. 

Everyday they grew more tangible, slowly becoming less of a phantom shrouded in mystery and more of a constant figure in the background. Every little thing he discovered brought them closer and closer, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get a clear picture. Every light touch on the shoulder as they passed him in the narrow hallway and scared the pants off of him, and every time they’d speak cemented the fact that wasn’t a dream like his brain had been convincing himself of, but rather a very real thing that he’d started to acknowledge. It could be dreadfully boring in the cabin, especially if the weather was terrible and Bloodhound wouldn’t go out with him for a quick walk. They had an impressive bookcase in their study but most were either technical gibberish that he didn’t care enough to decipher, parts manuals, or not in English. The remaining few were dense, classic novels that Elliott couldn’t focus on if his life depended on it. Much too wordy and full of stiff, labored descriptions with a formal writing technique that made him feel like he was back in high school english class. Some of the characters’ speaking styles reminded him of Hound’s own form of speech, if just a bit more old fashioned. 

He hated to stare but couldn’t help wanting to watch them, wanting to learn as much about them as he could, sneaking quick glances up at them as they’d eat, desperate for something interesting to happen. Recently they’d started reading at the table, and Elliott had to quell the urge to channel his mother and smack the book out of their hand to lecture them about table manners. He valued his hands too much to risk injury to them, but stopping himself from grumbling about it was harder than he’d anticipated. He stared sullenly down at his plate, trapped at the table until they finished.

“I would like to go hunting tonight.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow, hoping they couldn’t see the gesture overtop the book. “Oh?”

“Yes,” they said, not paying him much attention, “It has been quite awhile, and there is something in the forest that intrigues me.”

“Oh?” he repeated, unsure of what else to say.

“Something I have not gone after for quite some time. They are uncommon, so I do not hunt them very often. It will be a challenge since I have been rather… inactive.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Elliott regretted the woods as soon as he spoke them. Bloodhound’s head lifted slightly from the book, and he didn’t need to see their full expression to know he'd offended them. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Actually nevermind, it’s nothing. Just forget I said a-”

“Oh no, no. Please, continue,” they said, almost innocently, placing the book down on the table. 

“Uhm,” Elliott knew he was fucked. If he tried to back out again, they’d insist he continue anyway. He’d dug his own grave, so he might as well just keep digging until they told him to stop. “Y-you know, considering everything. It’s only been a couple of days, I-I don’t know. Shoulders don’t heal fast. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Would you like to reconsider your response?” 

Someone smiling so sweetly had never been so unnerving. 

He paled. “I’m sorry,” he said, sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You are right, you should not have said anything.”

They stood from the table, but Elliott was too scared to follow them with his eyes. Their footsteps sounded like they were circling the table, and he flinched as he saw their feet appear in the corner of his vision. “Stand.”

Elliott swallowed and obeyed, hoping Hound couldn’t see his knees shaking. “Look at me.”

Hound’s invisible gaze was withering, and they towered over him. “Do I look like someone you need to worry about, Elliott?”

“No.”

“No?” they replied, mockingly, “Then why do you insult me by acting as such?”

“I didn’t mean-”

_Smack!___  
The slap dropped Elliott to the floor. Hound had moved lightning fast, and the impact made stars dance across his eyes. Their foot caught him in the gut next, laying him flat on his back and gasping from the pain. “Do you __enjoy insulting me, Elliott?”  
“No!”

Bloodhound stepped on his collarbone, leaning into it and putting enough pressure on the bone he worried it would snap if they kept it up. They stepped on his wrist with the other, effectively pinning him to the floor with their boots. “Do __not raise your voice at me,” they hissed.

Elliott cried out, afraid to move and risk further injury, but in so much pain his body demanded some sort of outlet. “Answer. The. Question.”

They stressed each word like they were explaining something to a child, driving their heel into his wrist with each syllable. 

“No,” he whispered, choking out the response as he looked up at them, pleading with his eyes that they’d stop. Hound gave no quarter. 

“Then why do you insist on doing so?”

He paused grinding his teeth together to reply. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, you didn’t  _ mean  _ to,” they made a face as they spoke, spitting out the word like it disgusted them, “Tell me, Elliott, do you expect me to wait around and decipher the  _ meaning  _ behind every little thing you say?”

“No.”

“No? Then why act like you do? Would it not have been easier if you had spared me this trouble and been concise like I have been teaching you? Or better still, kept your mouth shut?”

Hound leaned into their front leg until Elliott heard his shoulder creaking in protest. It felt like it would snap apart any second now if Hound didn’t lay off it. “Yes."

“So what are you going to do from now on?”

“Keep my mouth shut.”

“Correct. I hope it is not an order too complex for you to understand. I am not sure I can make it any simpler.”

Despite their conclusive tone, they didn’t stop grinding their boots into him, and it was getting to be too much. “Please, stop,” he begged, “You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, does this hurt?” Hound said, feigning a look of surprise, “I do not  _ mean _ to hurt you. Silly me, not watching where I step. Maybe you should have gotten out of my way.”

Elliott was in agony. The bones of his wrist felt like they were being forced apart, and that they’d soon crack under the pressure. “I’m sorry for being in your way.”

“No point in being sorry. Just do not do it again, hm?”

He’d only seen Hound this angry when they’d been in the arena together, when they’d shoved their fingers into his guts and worked the muscles of his abdomen apart. They seemed even angrier than back then, and Elliott was at a loss for how to calm them down. “I won’t do it again.”

“Do what again? You are being vague, Elliott. Keep wasting my time, see where it gets you. I assure you, I will enjoy it  _ immensely. _ ” 

“I won’t insult you again,” he was scrambling, hoping that he’d piece together the right words by sheer luck, “And I won’t get in your way again. I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry.”

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you say something anyway?”

_What the fuck do you want from me?!__  
_ He wanted to scream at them. Wanted to beg that they just tell him what he needed to say so he could escape, to have mercy and think for him. 

_ That's it. _

“I didn’t think.”

“Do you ever think?”

The words cut more painfully than their knives ever had. “No.”

“No, you do not. Maybe if you did I would not have to hurt you.”

Hound released Elliott’s shoulder and stepped off of him, looking annoyed as he sat up and prodded at the muscles. Hound hadn’t crushed anything or moved it out of joint, but they’d gotten pretty damn close. “On your feet. Stop being dramatic, I barely touched you.”

His shoulder was nothing but a mass of pain and his wrist was shaking. He tried to make a fist but pain shot up his arm and he quickly gave up. “You are coming on the hunt with me. There are clothes in your room for you to change into. If you are not dressed and ready before I am, I will lock you in the basement until you remember how to behave. Maybe with no distractions you can finally learn to think properly. I will be in my study.”

With that final warning hanging in the air, Hound turned and walked off. As Elliott looked up, he saw them shaking out their arm and pushing against their shoulder. It was the one they'd hurt a few nights ago. He wondered if their slap had strained the already injured joint, and a pang of guilt shot across his chest.

__

_ Knock knock! _

Elliott tapped the door quietly, hoping against all hope that he’d beaten Hound and would be spared the punishment they’d promised. He didn’t want to go back down there, and he had a feeling Hound wouldn’t be letting him out anytime soon if he was thrown into the dark. 

“Come in.”

Preparing himself for the worst, he twisted the doorknob and poked his head inside the room. Hound was sitting in a chair, fiddling with some kind of contraption around one of their wrists. They had similar ones around each of their elbows, knees and ankles, and a long strap across their chest. There was something overtop of the shorts they wore, wrapping around one of their hips. They looked like a mummy made from black fabric and elastic. It took a moment for it to click, but Elliott realized what they were. Braces, from the looks of them, two on every limb fastened with every manner of buckles and velcro. He’d never seen them in the process of getting ready, only fully kitted out or in their normal clothes. Under the many layers they wore, it would have been impossible to tell they had anything on. He knew people who wore knee braces if they were jogging or for sports, but Hound was covered head-to-toe in them. It looked like it would be a miracle if they could move at all. 

“Come, sit.”

Hound pointed at a spot near their feet, and he shuffled his way over, careful not to bump against them. Elliott crossed his legs and looked up at them, waiting for them to say something and relieve the tension in the air. Much like before, he felt like he was witnessing something he shouldn’t be, like when him and his brothers would walk in on their parents fighting. It was uncomfortable, but unlike last time this seemed much more purposeful. They were trying to say something, but he was at a loss for what it could possibly be.

“What would you do if you knew you were going to die?”

The sudden question sent a chill throughout Elliott’s body. It had come from nowhere, and they didn’t look at him as they spoke, instead focusing on the straps of their wrist brace. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” they said, “I seem to have to repeat myself quite often lately. I will fix that later.”

“Uh, well,” Elliott said as he rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. It was harder to think than usual, as the door to the basement sat menacingly in the corner. “I-I don’t know. Go do some of the things I’ve been putting off? Y’know, travel or something. Maybe go back home, hang out with my mom like we used to.”

Bloodhound tsked and shook their head. “Come now Elliott, you can do better than that. I gave you permission to talk, just keep it interesting.”

“I guess I just don’t know,” he admitted, “I tried not to think about it, especially when I was competing. It’s what keeps my friend going, but she was always twice as tough as I was so it’s always just scared me. I guess I don’t like thinking about it too much.”

“For your mother’s sake, correct?”

Elliott wasn’t surprised Bloodhound knew his reasoning for competing- he’d brought it up in enough interviews that it was common knowledge- but it still made him uneasy that they mentioned her. He didn’t like the idea that Hound might have any knowledge beyond the shallow responses he’d given to reporters. It made his skin crawl, and with their sudden question Elliott’s anxiety was growing worse by the second. 

“Yeah. It’s just the two of us now, so I couldn’t really go die on her,” he laughed darkly, still a ball of nerves, “Not after my brothers did. Anyway, it would be a waste of a good suit if I did. She spent a lot of time on all those doodads, probably would never forgive me for breaking them.”

They seemed satisfied with the non-answer and went back to fiddling, tightening it down on their arm and curling their hand into a fist to see if it fit right. “Is she a kind woman, your mother?”

Now Elliott was wary, confused but still wondering where exactly Hound was going with this. “Yeah, she is. A bit obsessed with her work and kind of fussy, but I don’t blame her. Easier to invent new, revolutionary technology than mourn your sons, I guess.”

Elliott sighed. He knew he was being unfair, and he hated the tinge of bitterness in his voice that crept up when he’d mention the subject. When they’d first gotten the news, he’d barely seen her for weeks afterward. It had taken a long time for him to convince her to let him develop the holotech alongside her, and the time leading up to it he’d been left mostly alone to process everything by himself. He chided himself for ignoring the counselling advice he’d received afterwards, and corrected himself. She’d dealt with it the best way she knew, and in the end she’d given him his own devices and they’d grown closer after the initial hurdles. But it was easier to feel anger than it was to think about it from her side of things. “Although I guess I don’t totally get it,” he admitted, “They’re MIA, not confirmed casualties, but picturing your kids rotting in a P.O.W camp isn’t a great alternative either.”

“What were your brothers like?”

Despite the circumstances, Elliott’s expression softened. “Extremely loud, extremely obno… obnoc… uhm, annoying, and the best friends I’ve ever had.”

It was strange mentioning them, especially to Bloodhound, but it still felt good to talk about. His mother was the best person to talk about them with since she shared a lot of his memories, but he hadn’t had the chance in quite some time even before Bloodhound had dragged him out here. He had a personal rule against mentioning much to reporters about them, since they always just asked stupid, shallow questions that hurt to try and answer. He’d mastered the art of deflecting, but he had a feeling Bloodhound wouldn’t hesitate to call him on it if he tried.

Elliott scooted closer to the wall and leaned against it, looking up at the ceiling, remembering as best he could. “My dad died when I was pretty young, but we never really let it bother us. I was the youngest so they’d pick on me, but it was all in good humor since I’d just insult them back and since my mother usually thought it was hilarious, I pretty much always got away with it. We all had a rule. If you could make mom laugh, then you hadn’t gone too far.”

“We had to take care of each other since my mom was always working, and I don’t think any of them had a bad bone in their body. We were too busy goofing off and terrorizing teachers to get in real trouble. Well, most of the time.”

“They sound nice.”

“Yeah, they are.” 

“They do not sound like soldiers.”

“Hah,” he laughed, “You got that right. Only fights they ever got in were kicking the crap out of assholes who tried to cause trouble with us, and usually they lost. God help their drill sergeant, whoever the poor bastard was. Guy definitely had his work cut out for him.” 

“And they signed up anyway?”

“Yup. Figured there’d be no home to goof off on if it got invaded.”

“Did they go in expecting to win?”

“Yeah, I think so. They were always more optimistic about it than I was, but they were dedicated to the cause. They didn’t hesitate to sign up, but me? Couldn’t do it, no way. I mean, imagine me as a soldier? My brothers weren’t, or aren’t,” he corrected, “as carefree as I am.

“But, I think that even if they knew they were going to die, if they thought they were making a difference, they wouldn’t care. I’m not sure if they knew how it ended if they would have left, though, considering how much it broke Mom’s heart.”

“Hm. And what if you knew how you would die, but you could do nothing to stop it? If you did not have the choice, as they did.”

“I guess there would be nothing I could do,” Elliott mused, staring out the window, “If it’s going to happen no matter what, I guess all I could do would be to prepare myself for it. Go home and stuff my face full of my mom’s cooking and hope it isn’t that bad. I mean hey, it’s gonna happen eventually anyway, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

They curled their arm a few times, making a note of where the elbow brace dug in too deeply and kept talking, still not looking at him. “But what if there was an action you could take to make the choice your own again?”

“I don’t understand.”

Bloodhound rubbed their forearm, wincing a bit when they found a sore spot. “Think about it. If you knew you were to die, and you knew  _ how _ you would die, what is the one action you could take to regain control?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do it yourself. Take matters into your own hands again and rip control away so you are in a position of power again.”

Elliott shuddered, not wanting to let his mind slip into such a dark place and not enjoying where the conversation had turned to. He’d worked hard to keep himself from straying into such places, but he didn’t see a way out of it. “I don’t think I’d have it in me.”

“It takes resolve, that is for sure. It is our instincts that tell us to live, despite everything going on around us, despite the pain it could spare us.”

Elliott hugged himself. “What are you getting at?”

Hound chuckled and held their hand up to their face, watching intently as they flexed their digits. “Flesh is such a fragile thing, is it not? It is amazing how so much of it can fail, and it the body continues on. We break so easily, and we spend so many hours trying to piece ourselves back together. We continue to exist despite living in conditions where we should not be allowed to. We have instincts to keep us alive, keep us going through the hard times. But why do some of us fall apart faster? Why must some exist in shells that work against us? Why must our instincts and bodies contradict one another?”

Hound outstretched their arms, showing off the myriad of contraptions keeping them together. “Like these silly things. I should not need them, and yet, here I sit, covered with them. Sometimes flesh feels more like a burden than a gift. We are given life by someone and given the opportunity to do great things, but some of us are limited through no fault of our own. We find our own reasons to keep going when instincts are no longer enough and our body gives out. Some will never worry about their body, and yet I must make do with what I have and carry on as you do, because I cannot let myself lose hope. You fight for your mother, for your family, yes?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“What is it that I fight for?” they wondered out loud, “Is it worth this pain? Worth working around these devices all the time? Worth the consequences I face when I do not?”

“I’ve never seen you wear them. Is it… does it hurt if you don’t?”

“I have a rather strong dislike for them,” Hound admitted uncharacteristically, “They are a constant reminder that even I cannot keep this up forever. It can hurt, yes, if I do not wear them. It is nothing I cannot handle, but existing in pain is… exhausting. But what is worse, the physical pain, or the reminder that it must be kept at bay? I have my own reasons to keep living, but pain is pain and it does not care about motivations or aspirations.” 

After a moment of silence, they chuckled and folded their hands. “Ah, do not mind me Elliott. I am just rambling and have said too much. Please, wait by the door, I will be there in a moment.”

Elliott was happy to leave the room to try and dissect what the  _ hell  _ had just happened. Hound speaking more than a few sentences without a command or derogatory remark was rare, but asking questions like that? Speaking about themselves? Elliott had been determined that he’d walk into Hell and see it frozen before Bloodhound ever mentioned anything meaningful about themself. If they used braces, and used them to prevent pain, then there must have been something wrong with them. An old injury that never healed, or a weakness of some kind. But how would they have injured  _ both  _ their wrists and their elbows? And they had them on their legs and hips, and what on earth would they have had to do to mess up everything bad enough that they needed constant support? Hunting probably wasn’t easy on the body and Elliott knew how tough the games were, but Hound didn’t look that old. Mind, he had no idea what the rest of their face looked like, but they couldn’t have been much older than he was. Mid-thirties maybe, or they just had great skin if they were in their forties. But even then, they must have done something to themself at some point- the tubes of blue fluid winding through them were proof enough of that- though he had a suspicion they’d never tell him exactly what, if that was the case. 

He couldn’t help a pang of sympathy as it danced across his chest. Being in constant pain must have been terrible, even if it was at a level where it could be ignored. He could barely handle the phantom aches he felt in his hand, and didn’t want to imagine what it would be like having that be everywhere. all the time. 

_ Do they want me to feel bad for them? _

That didn’t sit quite right. They’d gone too in-depth in the conversation for a simple guilt trip. 

_ Maybe… maybe they just wanted someone to talk to _

Elliott wanted to scoff. Bloodhound? Looking for a venting partner? It seemed ridiculous, but maybe not as much as he wished it did. Whether it was the actual answer or just the one he wanted, Elliott was unsure. 

Pulling at his sleeves, Elliott rocked back on his heels waiting for Hound to finish. He was dressed in the same kind of deep green fabric that they wore while competing, and they’d even given him a pair of earthy brown boots with a deep tread. There was a leather sheath wrapped around his leg that sat empty, tied down as tightly as he could manage. A pair of goggles sat on his forehead which he assumed were some kind of night vision. The cool green made him wish for the bright yellow of his holotec suit; as impractical as it would have been in the forest, it would have been nice to have something familiar. Holograms had a surprising amount of uses, and depending on what exactly they were going after, he was sure there was some purpose they could serve. His mother would know, since she was usually quicker at the draw in terms of new ideas and uses for it.

_ Mom…  _

Hearing Hound mention her had put a sour taste in his mouth. It had been weeks since he’d talked to her, and she was probably worried sick. If he had to guess, Hound had mentioned her as a threat. It made sense, and she wasn’t exactly hidden away, so it wouldn’t be hard for them to find her if they desired. The message seemed pretty clear to him: say a word, and she’d suffer the results of it. 

“Catch.”

Elliott spun around just in time to grab the knife before it buried itself in his throat. His hand shot up reflexively and he whispered thanks to his muscle memory for literally saving his neck. “Good, not as rusty as I feared.”

Bloodhound dropped their hand back to their side, and in a way Elliott found it comforting to see them in full kit. Not an inch of skin showed, and this Hound he knew. Nothing human-looking that he had to worry about. “Are you decent with a knife?”

“I’m not bad,” he remarked, placing it in the sheath and securing it with a clasp affixed to the leather. 

“Good. It is all you will have.” When Elliott raised his hand like a school child, they chuckled and acknowledged, “Yes, Kær?”

_ Back to nicknames, huh?  _

“Shouldn’t at least one of us have a gun?”

Bloodhound snorted derisively. “My ancestors did not rely on guns, and I have far surpassed them.”

_ I wasn’t talking about you…  _

“Besides,” they clapped him on the shoulder as they walked by, “No time for you to learn such as the present, hm?”

Elliott opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut and glared at their back. Hound’s anger seemed entirely gone, but he didn’t want to risk provoking it again. “Oh, by the way, Elliott?”

He perked up and hurried out the door, not wanting to get left behind. “Yes?”

“Try and keep up. It can be dangerous in these woods, especially for someone like you.”

Without another word they started down a path into the trees while Elliott slid the goggles down his nose and jogged to catch up. He was more than happy to heed their warning, as even with the goggles it was difficult to see. Anything more than a few feet in front of him was blurry, and with how thick the ferns grew he doubted he’d see much of anything until it was right in his face. 

Hound walked like they could see exactly where they were going, which Elliott doubted considering the shaded glass. Yet, they side-stepped fallen logs with ease and knew when to sweep the moss hanging from the trees away from their path. If they had better tech, they clearly weren’t sharing, which Elliott didn’t appreciate. 

Simply being in the dark was enough to raise his hackles. The benefit of living on Hound’s nocturnal schedule was he never had to worry about waking in the middle of the night and being alone in the dark. It was freezing out, and the cold air mixed with the dark reminded him of his time in the basement. He shivered, pushing away the rising anxiety best he could and trying to focus on following close and trying to remember where they walked. During their walks to the river he was always on edge, but Hound had never taken him down this particular path. It was unknown, hostile territory, and Elliott squeezed the handle of the knife to stay focused. They’d failed to mention what exactly it was that they were looking for, so Elliott was clueless as always to signs he should be watching for. If it was some kind of predator, it could have been stalking the both of them and he’d be none the wiser. Only his footsteps echoed off the tall trees as Hound walked, graceful as ever, through the bush without much care for him. They’d hold low hanging branches so he wouldn’t run into them, but they kept their pace brisk and didn’t wait long if he fell behind. 

If anything it felt like they were trying to ditch him. They kept turning sharply, not signaling to him where they were going or when they would stop abruptly. They’d pause to look briefly at the ground or take note of something above them he couldn’t see, but Elliott knew not to ask questions. Stealth didn’t seem of utmost importance yet, but even he knew to be quiet. Something in his gut told him Hound wouldn’t appreciate him scaring off their quarry. 

He nearly crashed into their back when they stopped dead in the middle of the path. They held up their hand, a sign he took to mean not to move. They looked side to side, but didn’t spare Elliott a glance. They were utterly focused on something, and Elliott was getting antsy waiting until they told him exactly what the  _ fuck _ was going on. He was getting impatient, fear starting to make him irritable and threatening to override the lessons Hound had beat into his skull.

Then, without warning, Hound took off like a shot into the forest, leaving him alone in the dark. 

It took all his self control not to call back after them, but the moment it took him to react was more than enough for him to lose sight of them. Hound was fast, so incredibly fast that Elliott had to run at a full sprint after them and still he saw nothing. Because they moved so quietly, he couldn’t hear them crashing through the underbrush like he should have been able to. With the speed they’d run off at, there was no way they should have been able to go  _ that  _ fast. They’d been hurting so bad just a few days ago, and now they were acting like nothing was wrong with them at all. 

Elliott had no way of knowing if he was on the right path. All the trees looked like blurry spots in the edges of his vision, and he couldn’t even tell what direction he was running in. Had he gotten turned around? What if he’d run off completely sideways, and Hound wouldn’t be able to find him right away? They’d never told him what exactly they were after, leaving his imagination to run wantonly wherever it so pleased. He’d seen some of the figures they carved and they were monstrous beasts, and now he was alone in the woods with one of them.

Maybe it had seen Hound bolt off and had gone after them first? Animals usually had some form of chase reflex and they’d charged off before he’d even noticed something was wrong. But nothing was incredibly wrong yet. He didn’t see anything. There was no foul smell in the air, and he couldn’t hear much over the cacophony of snapping twigs and his own breathing. But there was no other sound, unless he wasn’t listening hard enough. 

_ Wait… _

No, he’d been wrong. 

_ It can’t be…  _

Elliott wasn’t alone. 

_ Dear god. _

There was something in the dark behind him. 

_ Please, no. _

He’d lived with Hound long enough to know when he was being watched, and he could feel its eyes boring into the back of his skull. 

With a final, desperate rush of energy he charged forward, its fearsome gaze a constant reminder to him that if he faltered, he was done for. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t dare spare a second to look over his shoulder. If he listened, really listened, he could hear its heavy tread behind him. It was big, whatever it was. The ground was soft dirt but it rumbled under the weight of the thing. Elliott couldn’t move his legs fast enough. They burned, as did his lungs from exertion, but he kept moving. He kept his eyes staring straight ahead, not paying attention to anything else other than his desire to get the fuck out of there as soon as he could. Maybe he could lose it somehow. Maybe if he turned he could shake it or at least if he could turn around maybe he could make it back to safety. Maybe Bloodhound would find him and he could beg them to save him. That was his plan, and he knew death awaited him if he failed. He  _ couldn’t _ fail. 

Then the ground disappeared from under him.

Elliott bashed his face into the grass as he hit the ground hard. He skidded forward a few feet until he came to a stop, groaning in pain. The thing was behind him now, quickly eating the distance and only seconds away from grabbing him and pulling him into the shadows. He flipped himself over and scrambled back, trying to catch a glimpse of it, but his goggles had cracked when he’d fallen and the thing was in a thousand different slivers in his vision. Frustrated, he ripped it from his head and threw the goggles at it, but the creature shrugged it off. Elliott patted his legs desperately, looking for the knife Bloodhound had given him. It was still in its sheath and he tugged, holding it out defensively though the shaking of his hands made the knife unsteady. The clearing he was in was large enough to let in a sizeable amount of moonlight, but his head was swimming from the impact. Details were impossible to make out. There was a flash of fur, teeth, something that shone which he assumed must be one of the thing’s eyes, but he couldn’t see clearly enough to be sure. It was gigantic, a hulking creature of muscle and sinew and it was moving in on him fast. Even with the knife, there was little he could do. He could throw it, but there was no guarantee it would hit since he was throwing nearly blind. 

_ I’m going to die _

Elliott scurried as fast as he could but there was no use. It was coming for him. His hands white knuckled around the grip, but he couldn’t see a good spot to strike. 

_ I’m actually going to die _

It opened its mouth, and its stinking breath filled the air around him. It was close now, so close but his arm was paralyzed. He couldn’t move. 

_ No…  _

It smelled of rotten meat, sickly and inescapable. He wanted to gag, but his body wouldn’t listen and kept still. 

_ Mom…  _

It growled once, low enough to feel it in his chest.

_ Mom, I’m so sorry…  _

Elliott squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain of being torn apart, imaging the horror of being eaten alive by this creature, but something sounded above him. A crack, like that of a branch breaking, and he opened them again to see a dark shape fall from the trees above. It struck the creature in the head, slamming it against the dirt before darting to the side. A blow to the head like that should have killed it, but the figure was wise to move as its massive paw swiped at the air where they had been. It didn’t go down, instead slashing wildly at the figure, who danced around its every movement with ease.

Bloodhound! It had to be them. No one else could move like that. 

The creature swung wide, and they hacked at the paw until it drew back, howling with pain. They were on the offensive now. Hound flipped the knife so the blade was flush with their forearm, and brought down strike after powerful strike on the creature, tearing it back out after each hit and not missing a beat. They were toying with the thing, every move calculated to hit somewhere not vital. The joint of a limb, a spot on its hide, all before dancing back out of its range and taunting it. It was like they wanted to anger it, push it to the brink until it snapped. He’d been told never corner a wounded animal, but that seemed to be Hound’s intent. It roared again and again, and Hound yelled as well, swinging the knife and driving it back. This was their element, and it was clear that their title of the greatest hunter the frontier had ever known, was well deserved. They made it look easy as they side-stepped each claw and ducked under every attack. If it tried to bite, they stepped back. If it swung low, they hopped over it with ease. It was careful not to drop its guard, but Hound’s stamina was incredible and the beast looked like it was getting tired. They had it up against a tree, and Elliott knew the thing was done for.

Finally it swung wide, and Hound finally stepped in and buried the knife deep inside its throat. They pulled hard, tearing the skin open and wrenching the knife from its flesh, unphased by the blood that gushed from the wound, flooding onto the grass in waves and coating them in a fine mist. It twitched in the grass as it died, limbs flailing and muscles contracting. Elliott couldn’t help but stare, completely dumbfounded, as they removed the bottom part of their mask and licked the blood from the knife, smiling as they cleaned it before the beast was even fully dead. They put it back in its sheath and turned to him, pale skin shining in the silver light. “You performed wonderfully, Kær.” 

_ Performed? What the fuck does that mean?  _

He froze.

_ Unless…  _

Bait. Hound had used him as bait. They knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up and that he wouldn’t be able to move through the trees like they could. They knew the creature would go after him since he was obviously weaker and more vulnerable than they were. Before the weight of what they’d done hit him, before he could feel betrayal or some sort of rage, Hound was kneeling beside him and had wrapped his collar around their fist. Their face crashed into his, and their lips pressed hungrily against him. They pushed him down, flat on his back so they could swing a leg over and straddle him, only breaking off to breathe and Elliott, despite this being completely out of the blue, did his best to keep up. He dropped the knife when his back made contact with the ground, and it skidded somewhere into the tall grass. It all happened so fast he didn’t have time to resist, to question their actions, but the acute wave of urgency hit him hard. Their mouth tasted metallic, still coated with the blood of the creature, but Elliott didn’t care. It was impossible to ignore how they kissed him with zeal, how they devoured him and left him straining for more. The adrenaline that coursed through him during the chase hadn’t left him, and Hound’s eagerness kept it flowing through his veins. He’d never seen them quite like this before. They kissed him with a sort of desperation, like this was the last time they’d ever be able to and they wanted to make the most of it. Their need poured off them in waves, infecting him with it and strengthening it with every second that passed. Their hands were still wrapped up in his shirt, but as they pressed their body into him, he could feel them growing hard. 

The intensity was unbearable, and the heat of their body warded off the chill in the air, but there was something else too. Something else that was enveloping him in a wave of warmth, soaking into his pants and working its way up to his head. 

_ Blood _ , hot, leeching from the creature’s body into the ground and pooling around him. Hound was completely covered in it, dripping it onto his face and neck. It must have been what was spurring them on. They were frenzied, and it was threatening to swallow Elliott up in the same feeling. It brought back memories of their first time in the ring, when everything had been so intense he’d begged for more. Hound was too busy nipping at his bottom lip for him to beg, but when they did draw back, he whined in protest. “Tell me what you want, Kær. I  _ need  _ to hear you say it.”

An idea popped into his head. An idiotic, insane idea that normally he would have shaken off or scolded himself for. “Cut me.”

They paused in surprise, another reminder of their first time together. He’d surprised them once, and he was oddly pleased that he’d managed to again. 

“Cut me,” he asked again, “I want to bleed too.”

Hound grinned, animalistic, but it made his heart race with anticipation. If the blood from the creature pushed them this far, he wanted to see if  _ his _ would shove them off the brink. He’d loved that first time, when he thought he’d never have anything so good, so unreal ever again. They hadn’t seemed human, and the state they were in now excited him even more because he knew what they were capable of. The knife in their hands didn’t seem threatening because Elliott didn’t care. Not out of fear, but because he  _ wanted _ this. He wanted to feel the cold bite of the knife into his skin, wanted them to mark him up and play with him. They’d said he was their beautiful toy, told him how they loved how his body reacted to them, and Elliott knew he loved it too. He loved the sparks that danced across his skin when they touched him, and how easily they could undo him. He loved everything they did to him, and it had never been more apparent than now. 

Hound helped pull the shirt over his head and placed their hands on his chest, leaving behind bloody handprints on his pecs. Everywhere they touched was warm, so much so that when the knife pierced the skin above his heart and blood flowed down to pool near his collarbone, it was all he could focus on. The pain was nothing, so minuscule when compared to the bliss that he moaned as they dragged the knife through him. God, what had they done to him? How was he enjoying this?  _ Why _ was he enjoying it?”

Elliott banished the thoughts as soon as they formed. It was much more pleasurable to watch the knife tear through his skin as Hound drew careful lines with the point. It looked like a small “M” above his heart that was bleeding profusely, but Hound lapped up the blood as soon as it appeared. Their tongue was soft against the wound, poking inbetween the separated skin like they couldn’t get enough of it. Hound lifted their head and kissed him again, bloodied saliva covering their lips and stringing between them when they’d break off to breathe. Elliott had never enjoyed the taste of blood, but there was something about tasting it from Hound that made it the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. It was like a delicacy that they were sharing with him, a secret between the two of them. It was a kind of closeness he’d never felt before. There was something so intimate about it, sharing the very thing that flowed through him and kept him alive, and allowing them to savor it. Hound seemed determined to kiss him breathless, to leave him struggling for air as they took up all the space between them. Each time he parted his lips, their tongue would dart in and more of the blood would leak into his mouth. He could feel it dribbling from the side of his chin, but everything was so messy and so wonderful that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away.

Hound took a hold of his face and wiped their thumb over his cheek, painting a line along his cheekbones and over his eyes. They were anointing his face with it, brushing the last of it on his bottom lip as he sucked on their finger greedily. The scar across their mouth was stretched as they smiled, watching as he tried to lean into their hand, just wanting to feel more of them. They were sitting on top of him but it wasn’t close enough. There was still too much space between them, keeping them apart and Elliott wanted to be rid of it all. The blood was warm but he wanted to feel the heat as it poured off of them as much as he could. He just wanted everything they’d be willing to give, and he didn’t care if his desperation looked pathetic. If he knew it would get him what he wanted, he’d crawl, and beg for it on his knees if they asked. 

“How bad do you want it?” Hound whispered, rocking their hips into his trying to coax out an answer. The friction was tormenting him, taunting him and  _ god _ he wanted so much more of them. They’d asked the question, and he had the perfect answer. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered, “Please,  _ please,  _ I need you. I want you so bad. Please, just touch me.”

Hound slid from his lap and spread his legs apart, kneeling between his thighs and running their hands down to palm him through the fabric. Elliott lifted his hips to grind against their hand, needing more from them than just teasing. Every time he rolled upwards, the pressure of their hand would relieve some of the tension building in his gut. It felt like he was feverish and they were the only cure he wanted. Hound pulled his pants down and left bloody trails all over his thighs, hand slipping down until their fingers were prodding impatiently at his hole. They were slick with blood, and just the pads of their fingers entering him was enough that Elliott could feel his cock twitching. Hound could make him come untouched, something he’d never been able to achieve with another person. It was an amazing feeling, but his cock ached, begging to be stroked, and yet they ignored it in favor of opening him up. They weren’t in the mood for something slow and sweet- they never were- but such ferocity was exactly what Elliott wanted. He wanted them to fuck him without care, to make everything disappear except their touch and the sound of them panting in his ear. 

The burn as his walls stretched around their fingers was familiar to him, and nothing more than a harbinger of the pleasure that was to follow. They weren’t as purposeful with their touches like usual. It was still frantic, their movements uncoordinated. They withdrew their fingers and grabbed his hips with a vice-like grip and pulled them up against their waist. Elliott arched his back and helped lift his ass into the air, barely able to contain his excitement as Hound undid the tie on their pants. 

Elliott moaned, loud, not caring enough to hide it behind his hand as they pushed against his hole, the angle making their cock sink impossibly deep into him. There was no overture, just the feeling of them filling him up and Elliott felt like he was going to black out. He’d been breathing so hard he’d nearly been hyperventilating, and the sensation made him dizzy. Hound kept one hand on the small of his back and the other digging into his thigh that they kept lifted in the air, keeping up a rhythm that was driving him crazy. It still wasn’t enough. He needed more, and he knew exactly what to say to push Hound where he wanted them to go. 

“Please... make it hurt.”

It did the trick beautifully. Any hesitation Hound had was gone, and it was  _ this _ that Elliott wanted. They could have hurt him all they wished, but he’d asked and he knew they’d be more than happy to give him what he desired. He looked up at them, but they weren’t looking back down and he could see their mouth open as they sighed. Their teeth were bright red, shining in the light, and Elliott wanted them buried in his skin. As if they could read his mind, they pressed their mouth to the inside of his leg and bit down, hard. They kept his leg up as they covered it with painful marks, blood dripping from the canine impressions in his flesh. The pain was intense, inescapable but absolutely delightful. With every harsh thrust, they’d bite down harder, not letting up for even a second. They’d kiss the spot after they’d destroyed the skin, pressing their lips to the bruised skin like an unspoken apology, but Elliott wanted to tell them to skip it and keep going. 

“Kær… fuck, you feel so good.”

Their praise warmed him, and he was happy to bask in it and how broken their voice sounded. He was happy that he felt so good, that his body could bring them such pleasure. Elliott wanted to be good for them, wanted them to keep fucking him like this. The position they were in let Hound go as hard as they pleased, and Elliott felt like they were going to split him open.

“So do you.”

His own voice was no better. High and shaken, broken apart by gasps that came involuntarily with each thrust. They were fucking the sounds out of him, filling him up with their aggression and passion and  _ fuck  _ he wouldn’t have it any other way. Nearly dying had pushed his heart to the breaking point, and he might have worried Hound would finish the job, but he could take it. He’d take whatever they’d give him because he wanted all of it. All of them, every last bit because he could never grow tired of  _ this. _

“ _ Hound,”  _ he sobbed, holding onto their name like it was all that was keeping him sane, “Hound, fuck, I’m gonna-”

Elliott cried out as he came, babbling their name as he rode the wave of his climax. It was all he could manage, and he knew they understood. Tears rolled down his cheeks but it wasn’t from fear or the pain of being fucked so brutally. It was the intensity and how it was exactly what he wanted, and how he was so happy he had someone to give it to him. Someone who wouldn’t pause, who wouldn’t hesitate and who had helped him realize that they’d been  _ right _ all along. He  _ had _ learned to love it, and he couldn’t go back even if he wanted to. 

Hound kept their mouth fixed to his thigh as they came, biting so fiercely it was a wonder they didn’t tear something off. Muffled as it was he could still hear them, moaning into his skin as their thrusts grew erratic and their fingers pressed bruises into him. They came with a groan, and Elliott bit on his lower lip to smother his own moaning as he felt them spill deep inside him. For a quiet, blissful moment they leaned into his thigh, pressing their forehead into the mess of his skin and panting softly. They pulled out and tied their pants string, remaining kneeling in the pool of blood as Elliott sat up. His throat was scratchy from breathing so heavily, and the inside of his thigh ached as the chewed up flesh bled freely. He didn’t mind the marks, and it was interesting watching the skin grow dark with the bruises. His head still swam and his legs felt like jelly, but he pushed himself up to his feet and steadied himself. It was hard, but eventually the world stopped spinning and he could even out his breathing.

Hound tried to follow suit, but stumbled and fell back into the pool of blood when their knees gave out. Instinct told him to rush over and help, but he waited silently until they waved him over. Not needing verbal instruction, he wrapped their arm over his shoulder and helped them to their feet. He expected them to rip their arm back and stalk off alone, but instead they leaned into him, letting him take some of their weight. They seemed alright to use him as a crutch, putting their other hand on his bare chest, over the carving they’d left. Elliott remembered his shirt, but it was lost somewhere in the bloodied mess of the ground and he didn’t care enough to look for it. Right now, Hound was urging him onward, mouth set in a grimace, and he was happy to help them wherever they needed to go.

__

Elliott still hadn’t gotten used to the cold water of the river, but Hound sighed with a smile on their face as he lowered them into the shallow water. Their braces sat in a heap on the shore, a mess of straps that Hound said they’d sort out later. They’d insisted on taking them off alone, even if it felt like it had taken an eternity. 

_ “Cold water, it helps with the pain,”  _ they’d told him, partially through gritted teeth. Their wrist had looked pretty swollen again and their shoulder couldn’t have felt good, but he hadn’t mentioned it. Whatever was wrong with Hound was bad enough that they dealt with it daily, but from an outsider’s perspective they seemed to have a decent hold on it. Either that, or they were just too stubborn in their day to day life to show when they were struggling with it. The hunt must have taken a toll on them, just based on how eagerly they’d slipped into the water. They’d crawled their way to a dip in the rocks where they could lay back, letting the water wash away the blood from their body while their clothes sat abandoned on the bank. He’d scrubbed it all from his own skin, letting the icy water wash away any of the remaining heat and cleaning the mark carved on his chest. 

Elliott realized he never really saw them completely naked. He was the only one who ever got fully undressed while they had sex, and he usually had the decency not to stare when they’d join him at the river. But now he could see the tightly coiled muscle under their skin, all the tubes that traced the arteries of their body, and the largest one that sat above their heart. They were almost translucent, blue veins shining through lilywhite skin. Even their body hair was white, impossible to notice until they touched him. Somehow they looked thinner than before, but he brushed it off as a trick of the light. He wished he knew what their eyes looked like. It was the one part of them they kept hidden, for reasons he didn’t fully understand. They’d been together for weeks now, surely it couldn’t have been  _ that _ big of a secret. If they were worried about their identity, they shouldn’t have ever taken their kit off and shown him their skin, so there must have been something else, some hidden reason. He sighed. It was never simple with Hound, so he was a fool if he expected it to start getting easier now. 

__

“Elliott?”

Elliott finished changing out of his soaked pants and followed the sound of Hound’s voice. It was coming from the living room. They must have had a fire going based on the smell that was beginning to fill the cabin. He poked his head around the corner and saw them on the couch, shivering as they waited for the fire to heat the rest of the room. “Yeah?”

“Can you come here, please?”

Cautious, Elliott obeyed and padded his way over to the side of the couch, looking down, ready to brace if someone was wrong. “Sit.”

The couch was comfortable, but he sat ramrod straight until Hound looked over at him. “No, come closer.”

He began to sweat, nervous, but shifted over to their side of the couch. A hand rested on his shoulder, and his face flushed when he saw that Hound had their arm on the back of the couch and was pulling him in closer. They were freezing to the touch, ice cold and it was no wonder they were shivering like crazy. Hound pulled in him as close as he could get without being in their lap, and rested their cheek on the top of his head. Internally, Elliott was screaming. He’d thought that before was uncharted territory, but  _ this?  _ This was… incomprehensible.

“Relax, Elliott. I can feel you tensing.”

“S-sorry.”

Hound sighed and exhaled exhaustedly, breath ruffling Elliott’s curls. “I am cold, and you retain heat much better than I do.”

They sounded so matter-of-fact about it. It wasn’t enough that they’d allowed him to practically carry them to the lake, but now they were leaning on him as a fire crackled in the background, leeching his body heat. He stayed quiet, but he relaxed a bit and just let them slump on him. He was no closer to understanding them or anything even in regards to them, but at least this would be a new, distracting thing to worry about if he got tired of worrying about the usual things. 

“I am... so tired.”

It must have taken an immense amount of energy for them to have run around the forest all night, so the statement wasn’t surprising. “Are you going to sleep, then?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

They yawned, but made no effort to get up. Elliott was used to being treated like furniture that they didn’t feel was worth acknowledging, but being used as a pillow? This was definitely new. The fireplace made the air warm and cozy, and he yawned too. He was exhausted, but Hound wasn’t letting him get up and go to his own bed. 

_ Oh well.  _

He was content to sit there until they woke up. At least they were comfortable to lean on, and he hoped they wouldn’t mind waking up and finding him dozing on their chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many things  
1\. Kitty is fine. Tests came back totally negative so she's 100% cancer free!! Rip my bank account but yay she lives to sleep on my face another day!!!  
2\. I'm gonna be in the hospital a lil bit in December cuz I need some minor surgery so updates'll be weird. Nothing crazy, but I'll be out of commission for a couple days.  
3\. My beta and I are going through All's Fair in Love and War and fixing it cuz I don't think it holds up compared to newer chapters, so keep an eye out. I'll just edit the existing story for the update when its done.  
4\. I'm probably gonna do a little fluff piece for this story that won't be canon for this fic. It'll be out around Christmas if I write it cuz ya boy loves Christmas so as always, peeper's peeled. So it happens in my AU but not canon for the AU. An AU in an AU if you will  
5.IDK how this ended up being almost 11,000 words I just had 5 days off of work for personal reasons and this is what happened  
6.This probably doesn't need to be a list  
7\. Tell me how y'all feel about like, super extreme stuff (skull fucking, for example) cuz this is already hella niche and I need hyping up if I'm gonna be extra gruesome  
Aight I think that's it  
Cheers


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